“So, do you want to do me?”...At first pass, a question such as this brings to my mind images from a handful of low budget movies featuring a seedy nightclub, lost shoes, missing friends and “that” guy at the bar who thinks the unfortunate starlet of this film will succumb to his charm after he delivers this cringe-worthy proposal.
A few months back I was chatting on the phone with a girlfriend as she made her way home during the evening’s commute. Suddenly I became aware of a commotion on her end followed by a muffled conversation that appeared to escalate in tone. Concerned for her well-being, I urgently called out her name seeking assurance she was okay.
It was around this time last year that I came down with a fairly severe case of what is known in Germany as Frühjahresmudigkeit. While I would like to equate the lapse in time since my last instalment at Harlem Hausfrau to this dreaded ailment, I must be honest to both myself and the wonderfully patient readers of this blog that it has in fact been a case of “meinen innerern Schweinehund(“my internal pig(schwein) dog(hund)”) simply rearing its ugly head.
“My goodness, I didn’t even recognize you!” declared our neighbor who sat astride her bike as V and I entered the resident parking garage. Failing to respond to my heartfelt ‘hello’ when our paths initially crossed, her reasoning now struck me as kinda odd.